


The Dancing Girl

by tinasnewt



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Ballet, Dancing, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinasnewt/pseuds/tinasnewt
Summary: Newt has a signing, and there are some odd fellows... including one he notices almost automatically.





	1. The First Event

The sounds of cars and cab horns honking and New York busybodies chattering filled the New York City night with a sense of home and excitement. This story begins on that rainy night, as one girl dragged one boy across the street. It was like a scene from a movie, with the rushing female dragging the distracted boy through the rain, across the soaking pavement that lined all of the city's most dazzling streets and avenues. Avenues lines with luscious green bushes and tall, sopping wet oak trees that reflected the street light’s luminous glows. Past bakeries and department stores that had long since closed, their windows now showing empty, dark rooms that would be reoccupied in the morning as long as the sun persisted in rising. There was a hint of annoyance in the air, as the girl dragged the boy painfully and hurriedly down the almost empty street. 

"Come on Newt, we're going to be late for the performance! I've been waiting months to go, and just because you're feeling a bit under the weather does not mean I have to suffer! And- oh, quit your moaning, I'll take you to the park you fancy after the signing tomorrow if you're feeling up to it. Would you please do it, for me?" the dark girl pretended to pout, mimicking a child, in order to yield her partner's submission. He still shook his head, and the girl opened her mouth to argue back, when he suddenly spoke. 

"Oh, all right," he groaned in artificial annoyance, and he allowed the girl to pull him toward the magnificent building. He “forgot” to mention that the girl did not control what he did, as she was only a plus one on this visit, but he knew bringing it up would only hurt her feelings. The lights that shined from the spacious interior of the daunting building reflected on the puddles that had accumulated on the concrete outside, manufacturing the structure to look as if it was glowing. As the couple approached the building, the girl's skin was illuminated by the fascinating lights above her head that she stared at with obvious impression. She made sure to shake any excess water off of her tan boots before entering the theatre. She made Newt do the same, even though his worn, brown boots were only wet at the soles. As they entered the theatre, both of them gazed in astonishment at the iridescent interior, the soft yellows turning to browns and oranges when they titled their heads at different angles. It was like a spell had been cast on them with the way they looked around in amazement at their beautiful surroundings. They approached a dark brown desk, and Newt surveyed the area. Even the desk looked beautiful. It was decorated with subtle hints of gold, and behind the counter lay a small box that was encrusted with diamond. Good thing there aren’t any pesky nifflers around, he thought. As the girl passed over their tickets to the lighter skinned, plumper lady at the desk, Newt spotted a woman looking around a metallic pillar in the farthest right corner. This woman was absolutely breathtaking. Her brown eyes were a wondrous mix of colors, and her chocolate hair had naturally curled in such a way it made her face resemble an ethereal beauty Newt had never seen before. Although her face appeared to be white as snow, she still shone like a star in a midsummer night's sky. Her lips were plump and red, a subtle pink decorated on them to compliment the sharp eyeliner that had been applied only minutes before. But suddenly, the face was gone, and there was a warm hand pulling Newt’s arm, leading his body and gaze away from the woman and into the theatre. The girl looked at him; her eyes were slanted and her grip on his arm was a bit too tight for comfort. Despite the discomfort, Newt still couldn't pull his thoughts away from the woman he had seen. 

Once inside, both his and the girl's jaws dropped open. The theatre was huge, with pillars of gold and velvet, crimson-colored seats everywhere to be seen. The floor was a coffee colored brown, and appeared to be new even though it had surely been in use for years. In front of the seats stood an enormous stage with a thin, golden curtain concealing everything and anything that transpired behind it. The expanse of the visible stage floor was a dusty, matte black, and the dozens of lights that were sporadically placed around the theatre all appeared to glimmer onto the onyx structure. Beside it, there laid a small pit for the orchestra and band, where numerous musicians were prepping for the performance that was due to begin in less than an hour. A conductor was twirling his baton and pacing as he surveyed his muses. The surreal sight of it all dazzled both Newt and the girl he accompanied, and they found their seats hastily, while still admiring the glamorous architecture of the theatre. They clambered into them excitedly, and both of them relished in the plush, soft texture of the seats. Despite his better judgement, Newt gazed around the theatre, looking for the tall, dark haired woman he'd seen only moments before. His companion sat beside him, her hand holding his in a tight yet relaxed grip and her leg shaking up and down wildly. A huge smile was plastered on her face, and it wasn't hard to tell that she was excited. Newt grinned to himself. He'd always found it adorable when she was excited. Her eyes had this special crinkle to them, and her entire face seemed to light up like a fire on Christmas Day. Her beauty shone through then, and it was at these moments that Newt felt at peace with her. 

       "I can't believe it's finally happening. We're finally here, in New York, about to watch... I just can't believe we were able to do this," she exclaimed, her caramel eyes wide with joy. Her grip on Newt's hand loosened, and it was then he took the opportunity to seize it back. 

       "Yes, Leta, it does seem tremendously extraordinary, to be in an entirely different country than that of which you were born in and to witness something you've wanted to since you were a toddler," Newt said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He was able to disguise it subtly enough so that Leta didn't notice it. “I do wish you’d have chosen some other fine art to occupy your time with. Perhaps art, I’m skilled at that. I’ve also heard that there are some lovely musicals on Broadway, many have told me I’m a great performer.” Leta giggles, a still-gloved hand covering her mouth as she did so. Just then, the lights dimmed, and Leta seized Newt’s hand once again and squeezed it tightly, her left hand balled up in a fist. Newt sighed, prepared to be anything but awed by the movements he knew humans could do far too well. He'd be much more interested if they were at a showcase about magical creatures or observing the animals at the muggle zoo. Brilliant music began to play, and numerous dancers in extravagant black costumes filed onto the stage, and suddenly began to dance. Their bodies moved in refined twists and turns, but Newt wasn't impressed in the slightest. He found the aesthetic of the building much more interesting than the performers. He’d decided he’d rather be at his and Leta's shared hotel, in bed, because he had to be awake early the next morning for a book signing. The whole reason he was in New York was to promote his debut novel, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Newt had decided on allowing  Leta to accompany him "just in case he got lonely" (he wouldn't get lonely, he had his creatures with him, and they were all the company he'd need), but he knew she'd feel neglected for the two weeks he'd be in the city had she not come with, so he told her to pack her bags and travelled with her across the Atlantic Ocean to New York, New York. The two weeks he would spend in the city were absolutely crucial to the success of his manuscript- if he couldn't get enough American readers' attention, the novel would fail and he'd be an embarrassment to the publisher, as well as fail on his mission to help promote an end to magical beasts brutality and the Americans’ harsh view of them. Luckily, he had charm and Albus Dumbledore on his side. 

       In the midst of his daydreaming, Newt caught a flash of a cinnabar red, and his daydream ended almost immediately. There was something about the color... He watched as the red spun and spun, it's owner's arms going high into the air, as if about to take flight... when he noticed the short, brunette curls that spun with the dress. The albicant skin. The chestnut eyes. His breath caught in the back of his throat as he watched the dancing girl twirl, a radiant smile spread across her lips as she performed what Newt would soon know as one of the most difficult motions in ballet, expertly. Her body continued to perform the impossible, and there were scattered cheers throughout the audience. All too soon, she had finished twirling and was then leaping in the air, watching the older male who performed in front of her intently, copying his moves so that they were synchronized in such a way that if Newt hadn't been paying attention, he would've thought they were the same person. The woman and man were the same height, but the man seemed to have adopted the lead of the group, even though the woman was far more attractive and talented than he was. Her graceful and carefully demonstrated moves bewitched Newt, and he found it impossible to tear his eyes from her, even as Leta bent over her seat to whisper something in his ear. The woman's eyes twinkled in the bright stage light, and as her astounding moves came reached their climax, the leading man lifted her up into the air and the woman danced as if she was the only person in the world: her movements were free, exquisite, and astounding. The man set her down delicately, as if she was a china doll, and she spun again, farther and farther away from him until she was in the center of the stage, and the spotlight shone on her. She was breathing heavily as she performed a final fouetté, and as the music came to a close she bowed, and the audience erupted in applause. Her mouth curved into another smile, and after the rest of the ensemble had bowed, she hugged the male who'd lifted her unexpectedly. A few seconds later, she pulled away sheepishly and didn't meet his eye. His forehead creased, and his mouth set itself in a hard line. The woman backed away slowly, her crimson dress sparkling in the light, and her smile turned embarrassed and lopsided. Newt decided that the smile on her face then was one of the most  appealing things he'd ever seen.

“That was... incredible,” Leta breathed, turning her head to face Newt, who was still staring at the girl in red, a look of longing plastered on his face. “It seems like you enjoyed it...?”

“Very much,” Newt confirmed, nodding at her as he turned to face her with a dazed expression. Leta furrowed her brow, but chuckled at how silly Newt appeared to look in front of her. “Yes. Well, let’s get going back to the hotel. We’ve got a book signing tomorrow.” Leta clambered out of her seat, outstretching her hand for Newt to grasp. She helped him up, and together they walked through the rain, back to the hotel. 

However, our story is not over yet. In fact, this is only the beginning.


	2. A Signing, and a Sighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has a signing, and there are some odd fellows... including one he notices almost automatically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for keeping up with this story.

_She twirled and twirled, coaxing him into a trance. All red lips and porcelain skin, she led him to the stage, where they danced together. Newt had never moved with such grace, his movements fluid and light, much unlike the jerky, hesitant, and quick ways he normally navigated throughout the world. The woman lifted her hand, prompting him to hold it He obliged._

_Her hands were soft. Softer than anything he'd ever touched. He couldn't get enough of it. The smoothness of her skin, the way it felt like silk in his gentle grasp. In the audience, hundreds of people gaped at the couple and how expertly they executed their performance. In the years to come, those who'd attended would continue to marvel at the excellence and beauty of the two unnamed dancers. A mystery that would forever remain unsolved, perhaps, as the masks covering their faces left their identities unknown and willfully anonymous._

_Together, the two worked in grand movements, swaying with the orchestra and keeping on beat the entire time, never stumbling on the other. Perfectly in sync. Newt couldn't think straight. A bright light shined into his eyes illuminating the world around the ethereal woman faultlessly. Against his most urgent willpower, he looked down at her through shining eyes and whispered to her._

_"What's your name?" Newt asked the woman, her eyes piercing into his skull like fire in dark water._

_She smirked at him, leaning toward his ear. Newt could hardly bear it. This woman, so beautiful, so enticing, whispering into his ear:_

_"Tina."_

+

Newt awoke when a gentle gust of morning air blew through the open window, causing him to shiver and bunker down into the blankets before the cold pierced through even the thickest blanket on the hotel bed. It made him forget about the dream completely. Reluctantly, Newt threw the covers off himself and wrapped his arms around himself, huffing as he charged to close the open window. Teeth chattering like mad, Newt shut the window with a gasp, latching it for good measure. He returned to the bed with an almost desperate speed, wrapping himself in as many blankets as he could before turning to his side, looking at the woman who slept peacefully beside him, though she'd begun to stir when he'd left the bed. Newt traced the smooth skin of Leta's arm, reveling in the warmth that radiated from her. She sighed into the contact, pushing herself deeper under the covers as sunlight billowed through the transparent curtains. Newt's pocket watch ticked loudly in the peaceful room, and he reached over Leta's body to check the time.

It was nearly nine in the morning. He had a book signing at an underground level of The Strand, a New York bookstore for muggles and wizards alike, at ten. Newt particularly loved the bookshop, having been once before. The rows of books that stretched for miles were one of the most comforting sights he'd ever seen. It was a brand new building, though the novels inside radiated centuries-old words and magic. Newt looked at Leta before smiling to himself and leaning over her ear.

"I believe we've an event to attend, Ms. Lestrange." He whispered, warm breath blowing a stray piece of hair over her temple. She stirred, her breath changing as she fully woke up. Newt repeated the phrase once more, attaining her full consciousness.

Leta groaned as his words registered, rubbing her hands over her face before settling deeper under the covers. "Are you absolutely sure we have to go?" She asked, looking at Newt under hooded eyes. "I'd much rather explore the city than sit in a boring bookstore all day. There are so many new places to go, people to meet, foods to try..." Closing her eyes, Leta rolled over to face the ceiling. "Your signings aren't that important, are they?" She asked innocently enough, though the smile dropped off of Newt's face almost instantly.

This had always been one of their... harsher differences.

Newt, he was fine with staying in a bookstore all day. He loved them. Surrounded by rows and rows of novels, he felt the words of scholars and prodigies and their power all around him. There was a certain magic to literature he could never quite put his finger on. Being encompassed by the words of authors like himself helped stifle the anxieties that came with his signings. In the right circumstance, Newt would find himself with men and women whose admiration for literature challenged that of his own. More often than not, though, he was surrounded by those whose admiration for him was stronger than their love for any novel, for all the wrong reasons. It did bother him, to an extent, but at least people were purchasing his manuscript and hopefully getting the right ideas from it. All that mattered to him was the mistreatment of magical creatures to seize.

Leta, on the other hand, was not as enthusiastic about literature, or Newt's career choices. Her strong fascination with his creatures was just that. A fascination on the exotic abilities they portrayed. She had no care for the arbitrary facts about them, nor did she find studying them particularly interesting. A more practical woman, Leta busied herself in studying magical law and worked in the British Ministry as a temp, though she hoped that as the months passed she'd grow higher in ranking. Especially because Newt's older brother, Theseus, was head auror. The influence he could have on the success of her career was a fundamental part of her relationship with Newt, though she never spoke that aloud. Never could she admit that, for Theseus being the "bigger and better" Scamander brother had always been a sore spot for him. Come to think of it, it always would be.

"Leta, I wish you'd be less... negative about the responsibilities of my career," Newt said over breakfast, twirling the spoon in his bowl of porridge. "I know signings aren't the most fun of social affairs, I dislike them too, but it'd be easier to get through them if you didn't..."

At her look, he faltered.

"Forget I said anything," he continued, spooning a mouthful of oats into his mouth and rising from his chair as he chewed.

+

Newt entered the shop with haste, Leta trailing not far behind. Even she, with her distaste for the more "classical" things, gaped at the beauty of the bookstore. Newt walked to the nearest man in the shop, who was busy guarding a section of novels and fixing the point of his hat, which had gone rather flaccid as the day wore on. "Yes, er, I'm here for a, uh, rather _fantastic_ event." Newt said, his gaze averted and voice low. The man nodded slightly, turning around and leading the two behind a stack of books. It was near silent and dusty in the darkness, and the man tapped two times before a secret staircase revealed itself, warping the floorboards around it.

"Ya best be gettin' on with it, Scamanda'. They been waitin' a few," the man said, walking backwards to get back to his post. Newt gulped. He knew he shouldn't've had that last helping of porridge. With Leta at his rear, Newt tread down the stairs, wincing as every stepped creaked with the loudness of a mother with a disruptive child. His grimacing was interrupted by a spurt of applause, dozens- if not a hundred- witches and wizards clapping for him as they watched him clamber down the stairs. He put on his best "publicity smile," flashing a bit of teeth- but not too much- and waved. A few cameras flashed at him, and he did his best not to blink at the blinding light. A shopkeeper in long, violet robes took his arm and led him to the front, where a chair and a table with stacks of his guidebook on it lay. He stood in front of the chair, hands clasped as he waited for the crowd to settle down. Leta sat a few rows back, a bored look already spread upon her face. Newt tried not to be bothered by it.

"My sincerest apologies for the wait, everyone. I was running a bit late this morning," he said, before the shopkeeper motioned for him to sit down and walked to the front.

"As you are all aware, this is Newt Scamander, author of the international best-seller _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. His manuscript is about the care of magical creatures, some of which he studied and took care of right here in New York!" The woman turned to face him, placing an awkwardly affectionate hand on his shoulder. "It is a pleasure that you're here, Newt." At Newt's averted gaze, the woman sighed and continued. "With his charm, good looks, and aptitude for words, its no doubt why _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ was a major success overseas. And now, for a reading from the author himself!"

Newt, having not known about this supposed reading, gaped at the woman. The audience in front of him clapped politely, expecting a grandeur recount of his discoveries. The shopkeeper lifted his limp hand and shoved a copy of his book into it, pressing his fingers firmly against the cover to prevent him from dropping it. There was a page already marked, thank heavens, and Newt reluctantly opened the pages, the crack of newly-bound books filling the air. He flicked his gaze up to Leta, who was watching him, though not as intently as the other guests in the room. He chose not to be bothered by this, as there would be time to reflect on her inattentiveness later. Taking a deep breath, Newt began to read:

"The Salamander. Classified by the Ministry of Magic as a level-three beast, it's a creature only a competent witch or wizard should handle. The salamander is a small fire-dwelling lizard that feeds on flame. Brilliant white, it appears blue or scarlet depending upon the heat of the fire in which it makes its appearance."

In the distance, Newt caught a flash of short, ebony hair. He remembered it, though he couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before. The figure was rounding the corner of a bookshelf, meandering through the long rows of chairs that lined the front of the shop. The spectators watched him curiously, some furrowing their brows. "Oh, I apologize," Newt said to the crowd, ducking his head down to face the manuscript. "My head was caught somewhere else. As I was saying..."

He sighed, trying to pin point where in the book he'd left off. He couldn't get the figure out of his head. It was rather bothersome, to be completely honest. Newt cleared his throat. "Salamanders can survive up to six hours outside a fire if regularly fed pepper. They will live only as long as the fire from which they sprang burns. Salamander blood has powerful curative and restorative properties. Their eyes are often compared to fire in dark water," He read, quickening the pace as he reached the end of the passage. He closed the textbook and smiled, flashing filling the air as people took photographs. Almost instantly, the shopkeeper stood him up and announced that the signing would begin. She walked him behind the large table, where countless stacks of his book were sitting. _I'll have to find someone who can make the thick, golden potion_ , Newt thought miserably, anticipating the cramp that would soon form in his hand.

As he thought, the cramp did form. His hand began to ache by the tenth signing, and the corners of his lips from falsely smiling at the thirty-fifth. Everyone passed by in a blur, recounting their own tales of ruffles with magical creatures to (unsuccessfully) flirting with him. Newt could hardly tell the time, but by the sixtieth witch or wizard- he was too tired to care- he was wondering when it would be acceptable to leave. He'd only gotten through half of the line, and Leta was standing against a stack of books, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Newt found her actions quite childlike, and wished she could at least keep him company as he signed the books.

The sixty-first in line's head was only visible just above the table, and Newt smiled. The little girl was obviously nervous, her fingers slightly trembling when she pushed a battered version of his book toward him. Her brown locks were elegantly curled, and there was a certain innocence in her eyes that she couldn't quite place. Newt leaned toward her on his elbows. "Hello," he said, and the girl jumped. Newt supposed she hadn't expected him to speak to her. "I'm Newt Scamander. What's your name?"

Her eyes widened, and Newt chuckled. She sniffed. Her voice was small when she spoke. "Mary Jane, sir."

"Oh, yes, Mary Jane, a good name, that is," Newt said. "I see you've read my book. Which creature was your favourite?"

Mary Jane blushed a deep red, turning to face her mother, who was beaming down at her. "Go along, you can tell him." She reassured her daughter, turning toward Newt. "She's a bit shy. She loves your work." Newt simply nodded at her, returning his attention to the small child, who was staring at her book intently.

"I like the bowtruckles," Mary Jane said, pointing at a scribble on the corner of her copy. "That's my drawing of one."

Newt smiled to himself, reaching inside his coat pocket. He felt around for a moment, looking for his stick-like friend, before pulling out his own, personal bowtruckle, Pickett. "Like this?" He said, and the little girl gasped, reaching out her hand before pulling it back. She nodded, too excited for words, and Newt set Pickett down on the table. He knew he was holding up the line, but this was the first joyous moment he'd had since he entered the magical bookstore. Pickett walked hesitantly toward the girl, flipping a few pages of her book before continuing his trek. When he was at the edge of the table she had the biggest smile Newt had ever seen. "Well, go on. If its alright with your mum, you may have a chat with him." Her mother nodded, her eyes bright in the light. She knew she was witnessing one of the best moments of her daughter's life.

"He can talk?" Mary Jane said incredulously, holding out her hands for Pickett to climb in to. He dangled off the edge of the table before dropping into her hands, and she giggled.

"Well, they can't exactly talk. They communicate in chirps and, Pickett especially, raspberries." In reply to that, Pickett blew a raspberry at Newt before returning his attention to entertaining the little girl. He performed a sort of dance, and even Newt was surprised when it closely resembled a dance the erumpents did. "They don'y really dance either; he seems to be reciting a mating dance the erumpents do. When I was visiting America for my book, Pickett witnessed me performing that dance to lure a wild erumpent back into my case. He'll never let me forget that humiliation."

Mary Jane laughed before the man behind her in line cleared his throat. They'd been taking too long. She blushed again, placing Pickett back on the table. He scampered toward Newt and returned to his coat pocket. Newt was glad his hand had had a few moments' rest, signing Mary Jane's book.

_Mary Jane,_

_Thank you for coming to my signing! It was lovely speaking to you. I'm sure Pickett will remember you for the rest of his life, which will be long as the bowtruckle lifespan is around the same as a human male's. I hope someday you pursue the protection of magical creatures._

_Newt Scamander._

Newt handed the book back to the little girl, who beamed as she received it. She walked away, waving goodbye to Newt, who was still chuckling at their interaction. He sighed, although subtly, as the next person walked up to him, and he returned to signing copies of his book.

It was thirty people later when his attention was caught once more. 

He was half listening to a woman's story about a pesky Cornish pixie when, in the corner of his eye, he saw a woman. It was the same woman from earlier, but this time she was watching him. It was the woman from the night before, the woman he'd dreamt about. Tina, if that was even her name, was there, observing him from a distance away. When he caught her eye he looked away, returning his gaze to the witch in front of him. When he looked again, the dancer was gone. Newt finished his signature on the woman's book, passing it back to her with a tired grin.

"Who is that girl?" Leta asked suddenly, causing Newt to jump. He'd forgotten she'd accompanied him, and felt a flicker of guilt for making her endure all the hours he'd spent in the bookstore. The question she was asking never crossed his mind. "Looks like the dancer from last night, the one in red. She's pretty."

Newt simply nodded, finishing the signature on another book. He didn't see the frown on his girlfriend's face. 

The signing finished with no more incidents, and Newt was glad when it was finally over. He wobbled on his feet as he stood, the blood finally recirculating throughout his body. He took Leta's arm and led her out of the bookshop. There were a few lingering visitors, of who Newt obliged the opportunity to take a photo with. Once that was over, and his anxiety levels had lowered, the couple decided to take an afternoon trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Over the next twenty four hours, Newt failed to notice three things.

He didn't notice the way Leta was handling him, with extreme possession and an aura of untrustworthiness.

He didn't notice that his book sales had rapidly increased.

And he didn't notice the blonde woman, who was watching him wherever he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave kudos and a comment. To contact me, my tumblr is fuckyeahnewtina and my twitter is KATHERLNEBOYER. 
> 
> Next week's update: Chapter two of "Forced Love," a The Hunger Games story.


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